


An End, Once and For All

by Meskeet



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Deathfic, Gen, No Slash, Prompt Fill, battle of the five armies, hobbit-kink, or incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 00:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meskeet/pseuds/Meskeet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fili and Kili and the Battle of the Five Armies. They died as they lived - as brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An End, Once and For All

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't do a good job of fitting the requirements precisely, but this is what I came up with. This was unbetaed, so pardon any mistakes.
> 
> Prompt:  
> http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/3138.html?thread=4130626  
> Kili is mortally wounded in battle (whether you want to go down the movie-verse path of Azog or Bolg, or if you want to stick to the book and just have an orc, that's fine), and Fili and Thorin see. After an epic "NO!" from Fili, he runs to his brother's aid... just as Kili falls to the gound.
> 
> Fili himself then becomes wounded, and as they watch they crazed uncle smash the head in of whoever hurt them, they lie together and talk to each other in their last moments.

The battle will become one sung for ages.  
  
His kinsfolk will tell of Thorin’s glorious charge from the mountain, the Elves’ bright swords that leap through the air to rend orc limb from limb, the Men who stand strong against foes almost too fierce to imagine standing against. They will talk of warriors, great and small, Elf and Dwarf and Man, who charge into battle with cries on their lips before they fall for the last time.  
  
And  _he_ , Kili, nephew of Thorin, King Under the Mountain, and brother to his heir, will not see his name mentioned on the list of those who did not face the foe with all the strength in their being.  
  
Kili and Fili and Thorin fight, a trio of deadly wrath and ready destruction against the sea of horror before them. Azog and Bolg and all their forces wait for them to falter, wait for the slightest hint that any of them stand undefended. For now, swift arrows and axes and swords keep the Wargs at bay.   
  
Kili’s aware that he’s slightly behind both Thorin and Fili; in a way, he’s grateful for the two shields. It allots him the room to fire arrow after arrow into the ranks of their charging enemies and to draw their rage unto himself. The archer’s aim remains unwavering, his arrows hit true as his family around him stands strong.  
  
Will they speak of him? Will they speak of how Kili, son of Dís, kept forces mightier than he at bay with a bow? Or will the son of Dís never escape the shame of the Elven weapon?   
  
Kili sets another arrow onto his bow as a chilling howl rends the air. In the half-beat of silence, he hears his uncle’s sharp intake of breath and knows which Orc the Warg consents to call master.   
  
“The zughd approaches,” Thorin states needlessly, that familiar  _ragepaingrieflongingbloodlust_  adding a curious lilt to his voice. Kili and Fili exchange an uneasy glance as Thorin’s dark eyes scour the battlefield, oblivious to the more immediate threat.   
  
But they needn’t worry about his inattention, for Thorin shakes himself free of his momentary stupor and howls a familiar war cry, raising the glowing Orcrist above his head before cleaving a daring goblin in two. Fili and Kili battle with the ease of long familiarity. The elder brother knows by sound alone when the younger reaches for a new arrow, and the younger knows precisely which foe might cause the most trouble if left unattended.   
  
“ _Azog!_ ” Thorin roars, and they can see that his blood’s been raised. The King Under the Mountain bullies his way through the ranks of enemies, struggling to reach his most hated foe. His nephews are left to share another helpless glance and they follow after him, struggling to keep their King safe.  
  
There is a sudden growl behind Kili and he whirls, eyes narrowing. Azog’s great white Warg crouches, tail twitching like a cat’s as it meets Kili’s eyes.  
  
And in that moment, Kili knows what it is to be  _prey_.   
  
 _Why isn’t it with its master?_  he has time to wonder before the thing leaps at him, snarl tearing out of its throat and sending tendrils of horror through Kili’s body.   
  
He reaches for his quiver, pulls an arrow, draws back the string not even bothering to aim –  _how can he, the thing is the only thing he can see_ \- and fires.  
  
The Warg lands on his chest, crushing every last bit of air out of his ribcage before it springs again, aiming for Thorin.  
  
“ _Thorin!_ ” he howls, the words a choking cough as he rolls to his knees. The Warg’s claws left great tears in his armor, but it doesn’t concern him nearly as much as the fact that the plate’s dented and he can’t breathe properly. “Fili!”  
  
His brother hears him, and he turns, impossibly far away. Fili’s eyes widen and he, too, howls their uncle’s name.   
  
Fili, Thorin hears. His head snaps around as the Warg takes another bound at him, but by then Kili can’t take time to watch. He struggles to his feet, lists to the side, and is almost forgotten by the enemies around him. He agrees with them completely, even if it’s for different reasons;  _Thorin_  is the only thing that matters.

The rocky ground under his feet shifts and makes him stumble, but Kili’s resolute. His bow drops from his fingers – he’s out of arrows, it’s just a stick of wood now – and he pulls forth the sword he’s hated since he fell in love with the bow.   
  
Fili and Thorin are almost within reach as they stand alone amid the thinning ranks of goblins. Somewhere, behind Kili, he can hear the members of the Company take up their own war cry as they try to reach their beloved king. No, they do not try to reach their king. They reach for their  _friend_.  
  
He’s free of the overwhelming press of bodies – the thong’s broken enough that what was once an army is now a thousand smaller battles across a great field of carnage. Any goblin or warg that tries to barricade Kili’s path is swiftly dispatched. Nothing will stand in his path now. He can feel the bloodlust that so often overtakes his uncle flowing through him.   
  
In that moment, he is invincible.  
  
Kili flies forward, reaching the small band encircling his family. They’re mostly wargs, with the occasional goblin seated on their back. They could have hemmed in, overwhelming his brother and uncle with body mass alone, but instead they toy with the dwarves, darting in for the occasional snap and swipe before dancing away.   
  
And behind Thorin, Kili can see the white warg inching forward and prepare to ambush.  
  
“ _No!_ ” he shouts. He cannot see their quest fail now, not this close to success.  
  
In that instant, Kili makes his decision.  
  
Or maybe he’d already made it. Maybe it had been made beside the fire at night or in the dark of the Goblinking’s caves. Perhaps it was before the fangs and claws of Smaug, or when he clung to the limbs of the trees and watched his uncle fall.  
  
The Warg leaps at Thorin’s unprotected back as Fili turns to counter a different threat.  
  
The Warg leaps, and then Kili’s between them both, sword lashing out to bury itself in the creature’s chest cavity.   
  
The animal’s claws hit him first – they sink through the metal adorning his chest as though it was homespun fabric. The teeth tear into him next, snapping into his neck and shoulder at the same time before pulling free.  
  
Kili cries out. He can’t help it, the pain is as though someone’s lit him on fire. His fingers drop down from his sword and he pulls a knife free, wrenching it up at the Warg. He’s stabbing like a creature possessed, crying out as teeth and claws alike tear him apart. There’s the sound of someone screaming his name, but the only thing that exists is Kili and the Warg.  
  
As it rears up, seeking to find a better place to bite down on – his armor had just barely stopped it from tearing his throat out, and it didn’t seem to like the taste of metal – Kili sees his sword sticking out of its chest. He reaches up, tugs it free, and  _stabs_.  
  
The Warg yelps with pain as his sword bites into its throat and it retreats, whimpering with pain. Kili’s head feels too thick and heavy; he can’t raise it to watch the creature leave.  
  
“ _Kili! No!_ ” With the sound of his name, the world floods back into existence. Fili drops down beside him, eyes wide. “Kili?” his older brother asks, the word dripping with pain.   
  
“F…F…F…” he can’t get more than the first syllable out. His tongue is too thick for his mouth.  
  
“Fili!” someone else cries and his brother’s head snaps up. Kili can just see the massive Warg approaching, its growls echoing with madness and pain. It snarls, the sound becoming a roar, and the dwarf suddenly feels very, very alone as Fili vanishes from his side.  
  
His arms tremble as he pushes himself up on his elbows. The world pitches around him as though he’s drunk too much, and far away he can see Fili standing before the Warg.   
  
 _No._  The thought comes as he sees the small figure facing down the Warg. Fili’s back is to him, so Kili cannot see the expression on his brother’s face as he holds his sword in a two-handed grip and swings it at the Warg. The Warg throws him to the ground, and then Kili cannot see Fili at all.

He must have lapsed out at some point, because when he blinks and opens his eyes, Fili’s standing in front of him. The elder of the two brothers fights fiercely, despite the blood dripping onto the ground at his feet. Someone must have moved Kili at some point, because he’s in the shelter of two fallen rocks and the only way to reach his body is to go through Fili.  
  
Kili had never though shadows could be warm or reassuring. They are always deep and dark and fraught with danger. But now… wounded and beaten, Fili is like a shield. Now, sheltered under Fili’s shadow, Kili feels safe.  
  
Fili’s blazing sword, all fire and determination, parries a blow. He’s a warrior, a watchful guardian, an older brother protecting the younger from harm.   
  
Then -  
  
It isn’t enough.  
  
The goblin pulls back, a smile on his face and insanity in his eyes, just before he throws his body forward. Suddenly, there’s a sword going through FIli’s chest and coming out the back.  
  
No, no, no, no – NO!  
  
Bright, overwhelming death in one sure blow. The goblin doesn’t try to pull it straight out, just hacks through bone until his blade in free, Fili falling to the ground and no longer a threat. Kili tries, but his body won’t allow him to rise and avenge his brother’s fall.  
  
The goblin kicks at Fili’s body, steps free, and vanishes.  
  
“FIli,” Kili whispers, the only sound he can make. His brother’s body moves, and the elder dwarf drags himself to the younger.  
  
“Kili, I thought you were dead, Kili,” his brother repeats his name like it’s a prayer.   
  
Fili sounds as though he’s broken, as though he’s falling into pieces and isn’t sure how to hold himself together. The thought of Fili falling apart scares Kili more than anything. He never had considered that Thorin’s road –  _their road_  - might lead them to this. Some sacrifices were too great, even for the survival of their kingdom, and this was the end of the line.  
  
“I’m scared, Fili,” he whispers. Death is a stalking beast snapping at his heels – and isn’t that funny, considering what had caused this?   
  
“We’ll be fine,” Fili says. “ _You’ll_  be fine. Thorin’s going to save us.”  
  
The words had been spoken between the two of them before. As children, whenever they’d found themselves in some scrape or another, Fili would tell Kili that Thorin would find them, Thorin would save them.   
  
And Thorin always had. Always he’d appear, broadsword at back and warm smile on his worried face. Never had Thorin failed them before.  
  
“Not this time,” Kili chokes out. It feels as though there’s more blood on his body than inside of it, and while he may be no healer, he certainly knows that’s never a good thing.  
  
“Kili-“ Fili begins, but his brother falls silent. Their breaths are growing shallower, and Kili wonders how Fili can still bear to speak.  _He_  certainly finds it too painful to try. “Remember when Nar was dying? How you asked him if he was scared?”  
  
Kili can remember than day. He’d stood at the elder’s bedside and asked him the query in a thin, wavering voice.   
  
Kili had always feared death in a way Fili did not.

He moves his head in a slight nod, and can’t manage more than that. His eyes are slipping shut, but Fili doesn’t seem to notice.

“He told you that you looked more scared than he. It was true. He said to think of like lying down after a long, hard day. He said it was just like going to sleep.”

Kili nods slightly.

“I need you to stay awake,” Fili’s breath rattles in his chest and Kili becomes aware that somehow his head has ended up in his brother’s lap. “I need you to realize that we’re not going to die, not now.”

“Fili…”

Fili’s scared. There’s a hard line to his jaw and his eyes are wild. His blood’s begun to dry in Kili’s hair and Kili realizes that the wound isn’t pouring out the way it had before.

“Fili…”

The word is the only painful sound he can force past his lips, but his older brother understands what Kili needs. He always has. Maybe it was some sort of manual older brothers got when the younger ones were born, because Kili has never been able to read Fili as well as Fili has read Kili.

“Curse you, Kili,” Fili snarls suddenly. “Stay  _awake._ ”

“Only if you tell me a story,” Kili whispers past cold lips. Fili’s smile is strained, but it’s there. They used to do this at night – when Kili was tired and wanting to go to bed, he’d prove willing to stay awake just a little longer if Fili promised to tell him a story.

“Only… only if you promise to stay awake,” Fili murmurs. Kili meets his eyes, and for a moment the younger dwarf can see all the pain, all the misery in his brother’s gaze. It matches the look Thorin wore whenever he thought of the loss of the Lonely Mountain. 

“Once upon a time, there lived a Dwarven archer. All his family and friends thought him strange, for he preferred playing with bows rather than axes and swords like any proper Dwarf would. For a long time, he was considered outcast because he was so peculiar.”

“…brother?”

“Yes, this very odd Dwarf had a brother. An elder one, in fact. The elder brother thought the younger very peculiar because he was fascinated by Elvish weapons, but faithfully defended him from outsiders who ridiculed his bow. Then one day, the two brothers decided to go hunting along the mountain trails. This was a very, very bad idea because each Dwarf was very young, but they thought they could handle anything. But when they went hunting along the trail…”

Fili’s voice trails off as Kili’s eyes begin to slip shut. Fili gives him a weak shove, and he cracks open his eyes blearily, protesting faintly as he’s forced to sit up. Fili stares at him, eyes bright with pain.

“Kili,” FIli chokes, breaks off. Fili’s warm by his side, an unwavering presence as he’s always been. “Stay awake, Kili.”

When Kili tips forward, Fili catches him automatically. “Kili…”

“Story,” Kili whispers. There’s no pain now, not any more. 

Fili looks resigned, and he allows Kili to sink back down so Kili’s head rests on Fili once more. “But when they went…” Fili begins to repeat, voice cracking. “But when they went hunting along the trail, they discovered that there was a troll horde in the area and…”

Fili continues to talk, his words a tumbling stream that washed over the younger brother. He continues to talk, even as Kili’s attention wavered and slipped away. Fili continues to talk until the words no longer make sense, until he too, can speak no longer.

 


End file.
